


Three in the Morning

by Yukari (M_Peaches)



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Harmful healing, Post-Coital, Stronger Female Weaker Male, Tall Female Small Male
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Peaches/pseuds/Yukari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day he's going to kill that broad... not today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Farla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farla/gifts).



> (look how original my titles are jesus)
> 
> Wow, I guess this is a lot of weird firsts for me. First time trying to write a legit kismesis relationship, first time trying to write a carapace-centric fic, first time trying to write carapace... post-coitus (copout-mobile go!!). I admit that, not being really engaged with Carapace Fandom proper, I have no idea what the largely accepted xeno fanon is/if there is one, so I tried to skirt around the implication entirely to avoid stepping on toes. You're free to fill in the blanks! Also, I feel like I should apologize for this being kinda graphic with the blood and junk. (That's another good reason not to write a kismesis smut fic, I suppose.)
> 
> At any rate, I hope this doesn't disappoint ~~too much~~. I do fully expect to make a few people uncomfortable. That's what happens when you conflate the language of hate with the language of love, I suppose...

One day I’m going to kill this broad.

I keep thinking about all the ways I’m going to do it, too. One day I’m going to just… dig my thumbs into her soft little throat and revel in the noises she makes as she chokes. Or maybe I’ll just dig my knife into the little seams in her chest, pry her carapace off—thrust my hands in, get real messy. Crush that shriveled black little thing she calls a heart and watch her writhe as the universe bleeds out of her, and bask in the knowledge that the last thing she ever knows is the humiliation of knowing I was the one who got to watch her die. Or maybe I’ll just shoot her.

Yeah, I’ll just shoot her. The other shit’s too complicated.

Swear I’m gonna kill her. One day. Not today. I’m damn tired. Damn broad wears me out.

She smirks. Crimson snakes down my jaw and dribbles onto the pillow. My tongue hurts. She bit it.

Maybe it’s the blood loss, but… to her credit she does look damn gorgeous in this light. There’s something about the way the moonlight through tattered curtains hits her curves, refracts off black chitin to sting my eyes. The blood glittering like jewels on her body—red from me, blue from her. The wet spot between us pools purple.

I breathe deeply.

It gets to the point where goddamn me I can’t stand the sight of her anymore; I sit up to leave her behind. I finger the cracks and scars she made. Dame’s got talons like a tiger; she ain’t afraid to use them, either. Blood still pulses from a deep puncture in the seam of my inner elbow. It stings. The sheets shift behind me—she’s eyeing me. I can’t read the look in her cold white eyes.

“The hell you want now,” I say, because for all she riles me up, I really can’t stand another go at that. Not like this, anyway.

“Do you plan to trail blood all the way back to your hive of wretches?” The faint ridge of her eyebrow shoots up.

“Plan to stop me?” I scowl at her. “I’ll knife you.”

“You wouldn’t,” she purrs, and she pushes herself up on lithe arms; her shoulders roll back, and she curls her neck just-so. She arches upwards like something inanimate given motion—a stone, a sheet of metal not crumpling, but rippling smoothly. Overhangs of chitin meet and part, and seem to flow. It’s hypnotic. I actually don’t notice she’s got me pinned till she does.

“Bitch,” I say.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady, Slick,” she says. I squirm. All it really does is get more blood on the sheets.

When she lies on top of me long enough that I quit struggling (not my fault she’s big enough to crush me), she sits up with the slyest shit-eating sneer on her face. The broad fakes “classy”—moments like this are when you see her for what she is. She’s nearly crushed the breath outta me. All I can do is lie there and mouth profanity at her, which mostly just serves to amuse her. She licks a jewel of red blood off her fingertip. The thread of her saliva gleams pink in the moonlight.

The bedside drawer contains a roll of bandages. Gauze, a couple clean towels, a tube of antiseptic that stings like a motherfucker. She slides it open in a fluid motion of her arm, the rest of her body still as stone. It’s the antiseptic she pulls out first, twirling it in deft hands. She opens it delicately. She toys with the cap in her fingers; she holds it to the light like it’s some fancy-ass gem. Her naked breasts are drenched in blue, her every breath hisses pain—but it’s not her she’s concerned with now.

Suddenly I writhe. She’s thrust her salve-smeared finger into my deepest wound. She lashes it around inside like she’s swinging a weapon for the first time in her life (I know better). _Mother fucker_. I don’t actually say this out loud; I have more class than to say that to a lady. But god _damn_ her, truly. “Get offa me.”

“Lie still, Slick,” she says, like she’s my fucking mother.

“Don’t act like you give a shit about my well being.” She has no reason to, not in the same way I have to give a shit about hers.

“I said lie still, Slick.” Her tone can still be regal, can still command when she wants it to. Not that I’ve ever given much of a damn about her tone. I struggle and kick, and I don’t quit ‘till she takes hold of my wrist, wrenching it hard until the pain beads in the soft seams of my neck as sweat. “Did I give the impression I was making a request?”

My teeth grit. “Fuck you.”

She purses her lips, and chides, “Slick.”

She wads a bunch of gauze and presses it against the newly bleeding wound. God, but her hands are cold. She binds my elbow tight with bandages, too tight to move it nearly. Her ice-block hands prowl over my body; I get a repeat treatment a few more times. When her hands edge between my thighs I snarl and bite her. God help me if I’m letting her get near there again after what happened just now. All she does is sneer.

I sit there threatening to bubble over for awhile. Finally I can’t stand it no more. I’m still bleeding, and don’t give a shit. “Fucking give me that,” I say, “unless you think I’m just going to lie there and take this.” I don’t wait for her to give it—I snatch gauze from her hands. She ought to know better by now. It’s funny. We’ve played this game a million times before, and yet every time’s the same as the first—it never grows any less loathsome.

“Since you asked,” she says. I swear the temperature in the room drops thirty degrees every time she speaks. She leans back, exposing the fresh, blue-oozing wounds on her body—rivers of blood flowing from bite marks, claw marks against her shoulders. Her boss would raise hell, if he were the type to raise hell, which he ain’t. I almost wonder if it’s got to the point where he can’t tell which ones are mine and which are his anymore. But he knows everything—between him and his flunky, he knows everygoddamnthing; what we get up to here, what happens after. Not for the first time, I feel a touch of anger on her behalf. It’s funny and a little bit nauseating.

I dab at the azure that trickles down her breasts. She hisses. She licks her lips when I dig my fingers in the wounds. Her hand creeps down, snakes between her legs. Her eyes track my eyes tracking her hand—trapped, and she knows it. Trapped in the façade of pretending she’s not trapped. Her dark, ridged fingers splay against the velvet, vulnerable surface of her inner thighs, and pause. I can still smell arousal on her. I can still see it dripping between her legs.

A sore twinge rolls through me, rippling from a point low in my body outward. I think I’d like to break all her fingers off.

What a god damn piece of work she is. I bind a wound on her wrist up tight—tight enough to crack her carapace a little. She doesn’t wince, not even it starts to ooze. “Now that’s simply petty,” she says. Her eyes look into mine, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to gouge ‘em and suck the jelly out. It sickens me to know she’s thinking the exact same thing.

She towels the blood from my jaw. The rough cloth rubs just hard enough to scrape. I’d spit on her face, except…

“Do you have a problem, Slick?” Just like that, I’m the one trapped.

There ain’t a damn thing we can do that won’t make us despise each other all the more. That is the absolute hell of it all.

I wrench out of her grip and onto the floor, where I sit on my naked ass for a while. The places where her frozen hands touched me still sting with warmth. I have enough dignity left to stand up and brush myself off. She drapes herself over the edge of the bed and eyes me. Just eyes me, with a cold, cold look on her ugly mug.

“Do _you_ have a problem?” I growl at her.

“Oh,” she says, “no problem at all.” All she has to do is blink, and she’s behind me—got me in a fucking chokehold. I don’t realize it ‘till I can’t breathe anymore. I claw at her arm, but she lifts me off the ground and lugs me to the window. I don’t have to see the smirk on her face—it buzzes in my ears like a bug. I’m outta breath.

Suddenly, I can breathe again. I realize because this is because I just got lobbed out of a window. The air smells like garbage. I realize this as I plunge headfirst into a trash can.

It’s a tight fit. Yeah, even for me. I flail around until I manage to knock the thing over, and I wriggle out backwards like a reverse eel. I feel like a joke. Not a funny one, either.

I lay there, with a half-eaten sardine draped over my nose, chicken bones stuffed in my bandages, and a pink gleam searing my eye as I gaze up at the open window.

 

I breathe deeply.

 

One day I’m going to kill that broad.


End file.
